Tonight I can write

Sometimes you do not want to express them.They are so stark naked,so real,you feel you are discriminating,reducing them to words.The very moment you sat yourself down to write them,a tiny part of the truth dissolves.Instantly.

They are your deepest feelings,the lively throbbings of your poor little heart.

But you want to come out of your own self sometimes.Like an apparition,you want to emerge out of your own being and savour the melodrama of your own emotion.And there comes this sudden realization that your sorry life is no less theatrical.There is an unheard explosion every second.

Every single instance,you bedamned her,you drove a spear through your own heart.Yet you loved the sound of the hammer striking the nail into the coffin.It is a loud,deafening sound.Sound that for an instant,enthrones you as master of the universe,as a man of great consequence.As expected,you die.You bury yourself in the cemetery of quotidian awfulness.You are happy,once again.

Yet,there is an inevitable reawakening at every sight of passionate love.There is obvious moisture in the sands of the cemetery.Even on the sunniest of days.And you wonder if it rained,at night,when you were sleeping............

Some other time the apparition comes back to you.It shoves you into life.The hope for redemption just raised ,its little head.

Another mix of circumstances is needed ,till you finally do what you should have done long before.Only every time you accumulated the sands of courage,they managed to slip out.Some mysterious force filled with shame, always acting.

But,to your surprise,you are greeted by a smile.Smile which jerks you back to life.The old music of the voice,so dear to you,your sins have blessed it with a new cadence of equanimity.Life springs up at the move of every muscle.Head is dizzy with joy.

And you are like,"Can't she xerox herself and give the copy to me.Let the rest of the world relish the original?"

Love,it is a funny animal.